


Like Sunshine

by D0ll



Category: The Great (TV 2020)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:27:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25845040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D0ll/pseuds/D0ll
Summary: "My parents told me never to trust anyone. And I never did, expect ofcourse Grigor and Georgina. But I trust you. I would lay myself, my crown and Russia before your feet for your love."Catherine asks for the servants to get Sunday off. Peter finds himself reluctant to tell his wife no.
Relationships: Catherine/Peter III (The Great TV 2020)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 83





	Like Sunshine

"I think we should give the serfs Sunday off." Catherine proclaimed confidently striding into the war room. It used to annoy Peter her intruding into men's business. But now he looked forward to her loud voice proclaiming her progressive ideas. The emperess was exciting, breaking up the tedium and boredom he felt about these meetings. 

Peter sat up straight and adjusted his collar. Like a little boy correcting his posture for her approval. Like he once had for his mother, but unlike then, he did not meet harsh judgmental eyes but tender blue ones. 

"Ridic-" Catherine's small mouth turned down Peter noticed and stopped his sentence. If she was going to look so disappointed he rather she place blame on someone else. Someone who wouldn't care to see her frown. 

"Sundays off for the servants, what do you think Archie?" The bearded man looked surprised he was being asked an opinion instead of having to express it without provocation. The emperor confided more with the emperess then his advisors Peter knew his whole life. But Archie didn't possess sinfull breast and big doe eyes. 

"Sundays are the Lord's day. I can arrange sermons so the masses can hear the Lord's message. God would surely bless the emperor who let them rest Sunday like he intended." 

Shit, now Archie was siding with her. Peter shifted in his seat uncomfortably while looking around the room surley someone would disagree with Catherine. They do every other fucking day. 

"Orlo?" It was a long shot but the war general was passed out in his chair clutching a glass of vodka and Grigor said something about taking a piss. The fucking imbeciles should stay and be grateful to serve him and bass in his splendor. 

"The servants would be grateful for a break and love you more for it." Orlo began shifting his feet nervously, for the millionth time Peter wondered how his wife could stomach his company. "They will show their appreciation for you by working harder the following day." 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Peter thought drumming his fingers on the table. But he was forgetting why he abjected in the first place. Everyone seemed in agreement that the emperess' idea was good.

"We will use your printing press and have a vote,-" Catherine gently laid her hand ontop of his causing his fingers to stop drumming. Peter looked up at her sad expression and sighed. He wanted her glowing smile directed only at him. Like he hung up the stars and the moon for her instead of announcing a simple order. And this was a simple enough request. And if it will make his wife happy... 

"Orlo print a pamphlet telling everyone to go to Sunday service after breakfast and they'll have the rest of the day off. Archie construct a sermon and print it so everyone can follow along."

When the emperor didn't hear footsteps automatically he shouted, "Do I have to repeat myself to you deaf fucks?! Fuck off!" He barked waving them to leave impatiently. Tenderness reserved only for his wife. 

Taking that to include her, Catherine shuffles away from his side but Peter spins her around, grabbing her waist and pushing her down into his lap in one fluid motion that made Catherine's heart skip a beat. For all of his faults, one of them was not failure with women. Peter was assured he knew how to pleasure the opposite sex. Catherine was loathe to admit it, but it was one area his arrogance wasn't uncalled for.

Orlo looked at her questionly then closed the door quietly behind him. Catherine would have to explain later that this meant nothing and their plan was still moving forward. But Peter pulled her away from those thoughts by cupping her chin in his hand and softly turning her head until she was facing him, thumb stroking her chin softly. 

"When you look at me like that, I feel like you are a ray of sunshine beating down on me, after a long and dark storm." That was what life was like before Catherine, his parents left a void in his heart that the sycophants at court and loveless lust filled tryst could not fill. 

Catherine's heart pounded in her chest at his words. Maybe things would have been different if Peter acted like this when she first came to his court. When she was still a naive maiden desperately wanting to be loved and love in return. When she thought Peter was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

Now everything has changed. Well almost everything. Catherine never lies to herself. She admits he's still comely. And when he speaks like that and looks at her so tenderly her brain momentarily lapses and her heart aches at what could have been.

But it was too late, her porcelain became steel. Catherine was determined to stick to her plan no matter what. Even when Peter listens to her progressive ideas thoughtfully and treats her warmly. Peter has proven himself too mercurial for her to depend on. His callousness and cruelty was too much for her to ever love him. She could never be his emperess, kneeling dutifully below him. 

"You are happy now, aren't you Catherine?" He asks ears perked eager to hear her reply. 

"Yes." And it didn't ring hollow to her like one of the countless other lies she told him. Peter grabs her hips pulling her back to him then nuzzles his head into the hollow of her neck breathing her in. 

'You know," he begins softly hiding his face further in her neck and she knew he was going to talk about his parents. Whenever his confidence falls Catherine knows Peter was thinking about them. "My parents told me never to trust anyone. And I never did, expect ofcourse Grigor and Georgina. But I trust you. I would lay myself, my crown and Russia before your feet for your love." 

Guilt pulls at her, the more she understands Peter, the more she feels sorry for him. Because deep down his arrogant and mean exterior he was still a young boy begging to be loved. 

Though Catherine's family never had much they always looked out for her, somehow her mother arranged her a marriage with a prince. Always striving to give her a better life then she had. Catherine will never have to worry about how much grain they will have come winter. Her daughter will be dressed in the finest silks, eat the best food and be able to afford all the books she could ever hope to read. 

Peter was laying his heart open before her raw and bleeding out, not knowing she has a sword ready to shred it to pieces then pour salt into the wounds.

Peter breaks the tension saying, "Ofcourse the chefs will have to stay working. The cook has a delicious breakfast planned for me." 

Catherine turns ⁹around on his lap, "Actually I was thinking we can make breakfast ourselves like before. How does fried eggs sound?" She asked beaming at him and entangling their fingers together. 

The chef just started learning how Peter liked his food and had all the preparations ready to fix his favorite breakfast and what been his mother's. But Catherine was looking at him adoringly with her big blue eyes. And Peter knew he'd much rather spend his morning eating burnt eggs with a Catherine then alone with a table full of the best meats and his wife holding Leo's hand as she tells him how much she loves him over spoonfuls of oatmeal and berries. 

"You won't spend Sunday morning with Leo then?" 

"No." Catherine said and was confused why she didn't feel more sad. There was more plans Catherine intends to tell Peter, she reasons. 

But Catherine is to lying to herself. She has already discussed all her ideas to the emperor and there are better ways to spend Sunday morning. Like her fingers running through Peter's soft brown hair as he sat underneath her...


End file.
